When It Rains, It Pours...(cheese and dog poop)

My dad's plane was scheduled to land at 8:19 pm, tonight. Due to the rainy conditions, it would not have been wise to try and drive my 15 passenger van, with seven rambunctious children, to the airport. When I told the kids that they would have to stay home, it was almost as if I told them there was no such thing as Santa. The flailing and wailing was just too much for me to endure. The whole day had been a huge bloody failed attempt to prepare for my dad's visit, and the chorus of seven tantrums was the straw the broke the camels proverbial back.


This morning, our alarm did not go off. How bloody convenient! Apparently, my husband forgot to set it. Any other day, I would be thanking him profusely for the extra half hour of sleep. Not today. I was rapidly approaching the showerless two day mark, and was beginning to smell like a decomposing orange (if you've ever smelled one, you're probably gagging right now.) But a shower was not in the cards, as we had to get the kids off to school.


After conquering the morning regimen of dressing, feeding, brushing, kissing and shoving out the door, the phone rang. The cleaning crew that I had hired to help make the house decent, was calling to reschedule. I had to restrain myself from threatening to hunt down and choke the poor secretary. I told her that their cancellation of services was a sick joke that would cause me a whole lot of undue stress and anxiety. She compensated for my impending anxiety attack by shaving off some of the cost. Great, so my house will still be dirty until Monday, and I only have to pay 150 dollars instead of 175. That 25 dollars may very well stave off my desire to go on a mindless killing spree (sigh.)


I remembered my morning coffee date with my sister in law just as the doorbell rang. We had planned to start having a relaxing cup of coffee every week. It is part of my new "stress release" plan. It ended up being one step closer to my mental undoing. The kids were all acting up and I was trying to do a little unnoticed cleaning while we chatted. I'm pretty sure that she won't be back, as she seemed kind of annoyed at my attempt at multi tasking during our quality time.


After she left, I packed up the kids in the van to take Phillip to school. Murphy's Law took hold, once again, as I turned on my windshield wipers. The driver's side was broken. It was pouring rain. I was going nowhere. "Damn it!" At that point, I could give a shit whether or not I was supposed to be cussing. "Bloody" was not nearly dramatic enough for this situation.


I unloaded the kids and decided to try and shower, while the kids played in my tub. I got through shampooing, when I noticed that Ella was no longer in the tub, as usual. I grabbed my towel and scurried to the kitchen. Naked Ella, stood on the rug, covered in and surrounded by shredded cheese. She had poured an enitre bag of shredded cheese all over herself and half the house (nothing new,) in a matter of two minutes. The dog was happily scarfing it down as fast as she could. Which, of course, resulted in doggy diarrhea for the rest of the day.


I spent the remainder of my preparatory time, cleaning shredded cheese and dog diarrhea off the floors. The house never got clean, the kids got picked up in a van with only one functioning wiper, and a mother who was reaching out and wiping the windshield with a little squeegee every few minutes. The crowning moment was definitely the tantrum that the kids threw when I announced my plans to fly solo to pick up my dad. I could just feel my freaking (I mean "bloody") eyeballs pop right outta my head, like "Large Marge" on the "Pee Wee's Big Adventure" movie. I felt my blood rising to my cheeks and the hair on my neck stand at attention. But instead of commencing with the earlier threatened rampage, I calmly said "Good bye" and shut the door, leaving Daniel to deal with the aftermath.


My dad got in the truck and, looking a tad disappointed, asked "Awwww, where are the kids?" All I could say was, "They are at home, alive. Which is a hell of a lot more than I could say if they were in the same vehicle as me, right now." The funny thing is, he probably thought I was joking!

The Truth About The IUD

It has come to my attention that many of you do not know about the IUD situation that occurred. I've decided to post a copy of the letter I've sent to ABC studios, in regards to the perforation of an Intra Uterine Device that I had placed after giving birth to Ella. I am sharing the letter with you, not to solicit pity, but to inform everyone out there of the real dangers of the IUD form of birth control. The doctors will tell you that it is completely safe and that what happened to me is a fluke. I find it hard to swallow that I am the .1% of the population that has had trouble with the IUD. I will let you decide for yourself:


My story is a personal one that began back in August of 2005. I had just given birth to my sixth child in the last seven years. Needless to say, my body was in bad need of a rest. My husband and I had tried other forms of birth control, to no avail. Because of my extreme fertility, we faced a choice of having a permanent procedure done, which we were not quite ready for, or using an Intra Uterine Device, in order to prevent another immediate pregnancy. My doctor highly suggested putting in an IUD, because it was highly effective (99.9% success rate), and was not permanent. We chose to have the IUD inserted into my uterus. Unfortunately, because I was still nursing, the IUD ended up perforating my uterine wall, unbeknownst to me. I had severe pain and bleeding, but the doctor told me it was normal, and to call back, only if it continued past two days. It subsided after a day, so I forgot about it.


I ended up getting pregnant with my seventh child, completely unaware of the IUD that was still inside my body. The doctor assumed that it had fallen out, after an ultrasound came back with inconclusive results (meaning they could not see the IUD in my abdomen or reproductive areas.) He told me that it probably had dislodged itself while I was nursing and come out when I used the restroom. I knew that most pregnancies occurring as a result of perforation were ultimately spontaneously aborted, but I had no idea that the IUD was still somewhere in my body. I did not worry about losing the baby because I was made to believe that the IUD was in a sewer somewhere.


The pregnancy progressed normally until December 23rd, 2005, when I started having cramping and bleeding. I immediately called the doctor, because I had no history of gestational complications. He told me that it was normal, not to be alarmed and to call him back if it didn’t subside within the next day or so. It did, in fact, stop on Christmas Eve day, so I didn’t need to call him back. Things went relatively smooth after that, until April of 2006. I was experiencing severe aching in my back, and rectal area. I couldn’t sit or stand for very long. I had never felt anything like it in all of my years of previous pregnancies. My husband out of town and my daughter, thankfully a responsible girl, helped to take care of the five other kids while I lay on the couch, in agony. I finally called the doctor to complain. He made me feel very foolish for calling, claiming that it was normal for women who had had so many pregnancies to have some discomfort. I was instructed to take a laxative to help me relieve my severe constipation, and some Extra Strength Tylenol. The laxative did not work, and finally, I was able to sit and have a bowel movement after a week or so. The discomfort in my rear end and legs got worse as the pregnancy progressed, but the doctor always had the same answer…my numerous pregnancies were the cause. So I finally stopped complaining because I felt so foolish.


On the very early morning of July 7th, 2006, my water broke 2 weeks early. I was not having any contractions, but we went to the hospital anyway. Even at the hospital, my labor would not progress as it usually did. Walking only stopped the contractions. The Pitocin that they administered was not doing much to dilate me or bring on regular contractions. I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that things were not going well. Then, I felt a huge pop in my uterus, and blood gushed out like a fountain. My placenta had ripped away from my uterus, causing me to bleed out. They tried to help my labor along faster, but the blood loss was causing too high of a risk for the baby and I. We were rushed in to have an emergency C-section.


The baby was born, healthy and handsome, my seventh child, born on 07/07/06. The delivering doctor was also the seventh of seven children. It is quite evident that God had His hand in the whole thing, despite my suffering. I was allowed to deliver a living child and survive a very difficult pregnancy. My recovery was a long and rough one due to the huge amount of blood loss during labor and delivery. But I eventually felt good again. Months later, in January of 2007, I started to get very ill. I was nauseated all day long. I couldn’t hold any food down. I was losing a lot of weight and looking pale. I was always dizzy and almost unable to function as a mother to my children. The primary care physician told me that it was a virus and that it would go away. Blood tests came back normal. I would just have to hope that it would go away on its own. A month later, I was even worse. I had taken several pregnancy tests, and could not figure out what was going on with me. Life had become a nightmare plagued by constant nausea and dizziness.


One morning, as I was showering, I felt something very odd. Two plastic strings were poking out of my rectum. I knew instantly what it was, having seen the IUD at the OB’s office. I completely freaked out. I went immediately to my OB’s office to show them. They were obviously nervous about the whole ordeal, but assured me that it was normal for this type of thing to happen. Ironically that is the very opposite of what they had told me before the insertion. I was told that it was very rare for any problems to occur, even with breastfeeding. Even the manufacturer’s insert did not say anything about an increase of problems due to lactation or nursing, not until they caught wind of my story. The nurse wanted to remove the IUD right there, but I was afraid of it being attached to something in my body, being that it had been in my rectal cavity for well over a year.


My newly discovered knowledge that the IUD had been inside my body since August of 2005, helped to explain a lot of things that had taken place during the past 18 months. But the doctors would certainly not admit that it was the cause of any of my suffering or labor/ delivery complications. I know that they knew that they had screwed up. They were bending over backwards to appease me in any way that they could. I am not a person who believes in getting rich off of lawsuits, and destroying people’s careers, so that was not my goal anyway. But I felt as if they had downplayed my concerns during pregnancy, and were now trying to avoid being in trouble. They never admitted to any negligence on their part, and I understand why. They scheduled an immediate procedure in the hospital, with an attending surgeon, to remove the IUD. It was successfully removed with no complications. The whole thing was over as quick as that. But the fear that my horrible experience could easily happen to other women, has haunted me ever since. I wanted the world to know that it IUD’s are far more dangerous than they lead us to believe. I wanted the doctor to admit that he neglected to do a better job of trying to find the IUD, and taking my complaints seriously. I was just another uterus to them, despite being a loyal patient of eight years. I felt like they had betrayed me, when they got scared of being sued. They did not represent my best interest, as their patient, violating their Hippocratic Oath. They did what served them best, in order to keep from looking bad. I truly loved the doctors and nurse at my OB/GYN office. They had always treated me with respect. But my last two years as their patient, proved to me that I am no more than a small fraction of their paycheck.


I am also livid that the manufacturers of the Paragard IUD did not properly inform me of the increased risk of IUD usage, while nursing. They only added the info on added risks while nursing, after my incident was reported by my doctor. It also failed to state that the IUD could perforate any other area aside from the uterus and abdomen, causing side effects like illness, and the need for surgical removal. If you read the package insert now, you will find that they have made some alterations as of this year, to the warning section. But it was too late for me. However, it is not too late to inform others. Thank God that my baby survived and is now a beautiful one year old, and that I am well again.


So that's the whole ugly truth. I'll leave the conclusion drawing to you. Is the IUD really worth the possible side effects and dangers?

The British Are Coming!

I've reserved my 220th post for a very special topic...The United Kingdom. Why is the 220th post so damn special, and why is it reserved for the UK? Because I have an inexplicable and irrational admiration for all (ok, most) things British, Irish, English and all the other "ish"es who make up the United Kingdom. Here are a list of things that I love about them:




1. They use cool words like "bloody, faffing, wicked and bugger." I just love those words! Being that I'm trying to curb my cursing, I've replaced a lot of naughty words with "bloody," and other such British words. Sometimes it works well, others not so well. For example, if a child falls and scrapes his knee after being pushed by a sibling. Here is how my reprimanding has changed:


My old sentence would look like this, "Damn it (Perpetrator's name)!!! You get your ass is here right now! Get in the corner for bludgeoning your brother's damn knee!"


My new sentence looks like this, "Bloody Hell (Perp's name)!!! Stop faffing around and get your bloody bottom in the naughty corner for bloody bloodying that little bugger's bloody knee!"


See? It doesn't always work well. But I still make the attempt.




2. Their accents make them sound so bloody proper. Even the most questionable character sounds like an upstanding gentleman when using a British accent. In fact, I'd be way more likely to give money to a panhandler with a British accent than a regular old Joe with no accent at all. They just sound way more pitiful! Sad...but true. For example, one of the gentlemen below is probably saying this, "Hey you bloody bastard, if you faf around with my wife again, I'll choke the pair of you by shoving biscuits down your bloody throats!" But it is all in the presentation. He says it with a smile on his face and an accent, which makes all the difference!



3. The architecture, as seen below in the West Minster Abbey and Manchester Town Hall, is just beautiful! I'm sure that they have slummy areas too, but compared to the boring, modern high rise buildings in Los Angeles, they look so regal and breath taking. You probably don't even notice the box dwelling bums that are scattered around the surrounding walkways of the Manchester Town Hall . In contrast, the skid row bums in L.A. are pretty hard to ignore. I blame the lack of architecturally distracting buildings. (I know Patrick will have a comment for this one!)


4. They drink tea and eat biscuits (British word for cookies) all the time. Anyone who eats cookies all day long is all right in my book!


5. Three words: St. Patrick's Day! I know it's Irish, and I'm clearly not, but it is a bloody fantastic holiday! Any occasion that I can drink green beer and eat corned beef, all in the name of Christian missionary, earns a place in my heart! FYI: St. Patrick's original name was Maywen Sockett (sp?) How 'bout them shamrocks?!


6. God save the Queen! I love having a democracy just as much as the next American citizen(sometimes.) But the sheer idea of royalty is just bloody appealing!! Probably because when I was growing up, I wanted to be a queen. (Ok...I still want to be a queen.)


7. Punk Rockers! You gotta love those mile high mohawks and Doc Martins!! They are the o.g. rebels. (Which explains my undying love for Billy Idol!)


8. William Shakespeare. Need I say more?


9. Last, but certainly not least, is my favorite lady born in the UK: Ms. Jo Frost!! The woman is fan-bloody-tastic!! That's all I'm allowed to say, for now...


So there you have it. I'm an American who loves her country, but appreciates the wicked awesome things that make the United Kingdom so unique! I'm okay with that, and I care not whether you bloody buggers agree with me. Now I'm off to have some tea and biscuits!

Yeah, I'm begging.

Okay...I admit that this is silly and immature. But I am extremely competitive in nature, and I cannot stand being 340th on the list of humor-blogs. Am I really that unfunny? No, of course not (that's just crazy talk!) I am, however, lacking in traffic generation.


What does that mean? It means that I am begging you all to click on the humor blogs link in this post, or in the sidebar. Just take a minute to do that one tiny favor for me, so that I can move up in the rankings. Being 340th is just killing me!!! My status is not even dependent on whether or not I am funny. I know this because I am damn funny (and also because that is just the sick, twisted way that humor-blogs functions)!!! They just want an increase in traffic. In all fairness, some of the blogs are really funny! Not in a cheek hurting, rolling on the floor, Kadi kind of way, but in a less hilarious, more subtle kind of way. Nevertheless, please please PLEASE, click on this: www.humor-blogs.com and make my day! I will give 100 dollars to everyone who does.


Okay, no I won't. But I'll be you BFF if you do! Now, I'm off to dig up some grub for dinner!

My New Favorite Tree

This morning, I am singing the praises of the Dollar Tree store! I meandered over to the Dollar Tree last night, while Marlie was at her Girl Scout meeting. Being that I do not frequent the Dollar Tree, I had no idea what I was in store for (no pun intended.) I was expecting a small selection of lead based "Made In China" crap that would certainly not suffice as stocking stuffers. Usually, I do all of my shopping at my favorite spot, Target. But lately I have been hearing tales of women who are in love with the Dollar Tree, and so I needed to see this place for myself.


O' Holy Night!!! This place was bursting with deals! I got wrapping paper, ribbon, paper party goods, ornaments (non breakable ones,) tape, toys, household items, hand towels, storage bins and all of my stocking stuffer items for all seven children. My cart was overflowing with stuff, literally. I had to push it to the front with my pinky finger because the rest of them were busy holding gift bags, candy and cute socks (yes, socks!!!)


As I stood at the check out counter, I started looking over the goods I had piled onto the conveyor belt. I knew in the pit of my stomach that the total bill was going to hurt. There were so many beeps coming from the register that they actually made a little song. I made up words to them as I waited: "Daniel's going to kill you! You'd better hide it all. Oh crap, he looks at the bank statement...Rome is going to fall!!" Then the beeping stopped. I looked at the cashier with a raised eyebrow, "What's the damage?" She laughed and replied, "You did really good!" I ignored her grammatical error and smiled, "Really?"


Yes, I spent a total of 139 dollars. But it was well worth it. Had it shopped anywhere else, it would have been at least double that amount. My demeanor changed as I loaded up the cart with my bags. There was gleam in my eye and a spring in my step. "Daniel is going to be so proud of me!" I sang to myself as I made my way to the front doors. Then my springy steps stopped short. The cart was stuck. The protruding poles that they place on each cart, make it impossible to leave the store with them. Which, tells a lot about their clientele. Maybe the cashier could have mentioned this little fact to me before I loaded it up with bags!! So, my joy was momentarily stifled while I lugged 139 items to my van, in the 29 degree weather. I'm sure that the cashier was laughing as she watched me stumble across the parking lot, dropping things and trying to awkwardly retrieve them.


Nevertheless, my joy was restored as I surveyed all of my clever findings! I'm telling you...the Dollar Tree saved my rear end this year! Of course, Daniel will not be happy that I bought even more stocking stuffers than I usually do, but hey...they were such bargains! What rational human being can pass up the chance to load up on bargains at Christmas (I mean, other than my husband?) Ladies and Gentlemen... I love the Dollar Tree!

The BEAST MOM Cometh

I am sick, just sick. My dear friend, Bridget, called me tonight sounding extremely upset. Apparently her blog title "Beast Mom," is shared by a writer in Washington. This writer, decided that she and only she is worthy of using such a blog title. Her decided course of action was to suggest that Bridget change her title. Then, to add insult to injury, some of this writers devoted fans decided to write reproachful comments to Bridget. The comments were very accusatory towards Bridget and her motives. They said that Bridget was a hypocrite for speaking of being a truthful person, yet plagiarizing someone's blog title.


Hello?! Does anyone else see the utterly mind boggling foolishness of this woman? Her readers were referring to her as the "REAL" Beast Mom. They chastised Bridget for having the audacity to chose a title that was clearly not original. Again.....Hello?! What child has not written the word "beast" instead of "best" during the course of their life? It is a totally common spelling error, made by thousands of children each year! Bridget found it humorous and decided to use it in her blog title. Does this make her deserving of the ridicule she has had to suffer?

What kind of small minded, anal retentive woman is this "REAL" Beast Mom, that she felt compelled to question Bridget's character for using the same title? Does she have nothing better going on in her life than to search out women who use the same phrases and verbally shred them to pieces, and have her readers do the same? Get a life, lady!!!


Nothing boils my blood more than an egotistical, immature bitch who takes joy in ruining other women's days by finding things to castigate them for. Especially when the victim of such blatant boredom inspired bitchery happens to be a woman with a heart of gold. I know very few women who, in my opinion, are true examples of Christians. Bridget is one of those few, hands down. This "REAL" Beast Mom, has no freakin idea as to whom she picked on. She has never witnessed Bridget's late night Halloween costume sewing sessions. She is never present at church when the Ryan family arrives. She obviously has no bleeping idea how difficult and self sacrificing it is to home school one's own children. She has never seen all of the hundreds of wonderful things that Bridget does for other people, in the name of love.


You know what? That woman is right...she is the "REAL" Beast Mom. Any woman who would berate another mom for something so silly as using the same blog title is well deserving of that name. Let this be a lesson to us all: Be careful what you wish for, you just may get it. As for the "REAL" Beast Mom, I propose that we take up a collection in her name. She can use the proceeds to pay for the removal of the stick that's wedged up her ass!!

Deck The Walls

Christmas is always a joyful time in our home. The usual chaotic happenings get a little merrier and a whole lot messier, and I LOVE it! I love setting our mayhem to holiday music and giving the kids lots of festive decor to ruin, as opposed to the boring everyday family heirlooms (oh wait...we don't have any heirlooms.) As the kids get older, they are becoming more enthusiastic about preparing for Jesus's birthday. They are becoming more fully aware of the meaning of Christmas and why we make such a huge deal out of it. There are a few things, however, that I have failed to explain to them. Below you will find a list of the items, so far, that I have had to make clear to the children, as the Christmas season approaches. Grab your mug of cocoa, sit back and enjoy!

1. When I say that we are going to give presents to the poor kids, I don't mean that you go and dig out all of your broken toys and wrap them up. (Trenton's response was: "Hey, it will make room for all of our new stuff")

2. The song is called "Deck The Halls," not "Deck The Walls." Please go and clean off your six foot tall mural of Rudolph and Santa (how did they reach that high?) and we'll draw them on paper.

3. No, Jack Frost is not some weirdo that sneaks into your room at night and eats your face off. Now, kindly get your feet out of my back and go back to your own bed, Daniel.

4. When I suggested making sugar cookies, it did not mean to pour out the whole canister of sugar on top of the cookie dough. But thank you for the help, Phillip.

5. Egg nog is a drink that is made according to an old fashioned recipe, Trenton. It does not mean that you sneakily crack eggs into every one's dinner drinks and laugh hysterically as you watch them gag.

6. "The twelve days of Christmas" is just a song. It in no way indicates that you are entitled to receive presents for twelve days, Marlie...What's that? No. No we are not going to become Jewish so that you can get eight presents either.

7. "Frosty The Snowman" is a made up song about a fake snowman. The giant singing snowman we have in the living room runs on electricity and will not come alive at night. Now...get your feet out of my back and get back into your own bed, Daniel!!

8. The snow spray that I put on the windows is to make the house look more wintry. It is not to be used as a giant easel to send secret dirty messages to the neighbors, Daniel, Trenton and Phillip.

9. We do not reenact the manger scene by undressing Reed, putting him in a cardboard box on the front lawn and leaving him out there.

10. Our Christmas stockings are not a normal size. Grandma Vette made them huge (we are talking 3 feet tall and 2 feet wide.) Do NOT expect to see them overflowing or even full of stocking stuffers on Christmas morning. You'll be lucky to have anything in there at all if you don't figure out a way to get on Santa's nice list. (I LOVE the bribery and threats that come with the Christmas season!!)

Change is Goooooood!

Warning: You are about to see some astonishing changes in my blog design!! Do not be alarmed. It is still my blog. You should still be visiting it everyday, and passing it along to friends so that they can visit me (and feel better about their own short comings!) If you haven't been stopping by to read on a daily basis...shame on you!! You're missing out on so much poop eating, barfing, and other fun kid stuff! Okay, I'm done reprimanding you.


First, I've changed the title...again. But for a good reason! I chose to make it the same as the book title and the website title, in order to make it easier on myself. I can't even remember my own kids' names, much less three different web page titles. Daniel is so glad that I decided to change it. He was not too fond of the whole "Booger" thing. In fact, he has been begging me to come up with something less gross. Fine, he wins! Secondly, I am having the blog redesigned by Jennisa Joy, an awesome blog artist! She has done some cute stuff to other people's blogs, and it is high time that I get a makeover!


Everything else will remain the same, the crude humor, the disgusting stories and poems about my slow progression towards insanity! They will all be present, on a daily basis, for your enjoyment or criticism. I hope you all approve of the new look, when it takes place! If you don't, please let me know by sending my tons of disapproving email and comments, so I can file them in my "Couldn't Give A Crap" compartment! I'm kidding...sort of. I know you will all love it!! If you want to do the same to your blog, click on Jennisa's link: www.jennisajoy.blogspot.com. You can even give the design packages as a Christmas gift!!


And now, back to your regularly scheduled blogging! Have a great day!

I Miss Hitting The Bottle

A wise woman once told me, "Allowing your kids to pee in a bottle in the car is unacceptable. It's a dirty habit, and it's time to get a port a potty!"


Fine...I went to Target and bought a thirty dollar port a potty that sings and looks like an actual potty. Why did I buy a thirty dollar potty? It was the only one they had left. The fifteen dollar potty chair was out of stock. So, I spent thirty dollars on a piece of plastic so that my kids would have something "proper" to pee into, as opposed to a free empty water bottle. Fine...


I set it up in the back of the van, and explained to the kids that this was to be our emergency potty. Aiden immediately screamed, "No! I yike to pee in da watuh botto!" I calmly explained that peeing in a bottle was not good manners, (even though I see nothing wrong with doing it in the privacy of our dark tinted van,) and that we need to find a new place to go potty. He was not happy, but succumbed to the idea our new implemented potty plan. Fine...


Day one of the new potty implementation:
I take the kids to Target to Christmas shop. We arrive and Ella has to go potty. She is potty training and has to use the potty right away, or she'll wet herself. I put her on the potty, and she screams. She gets up and runs to the front of the van to get a bottle and pees all over the place on her way up there. I change her into new pants (thank God I had some with me!) She tells me that she has to poop. Great. I should have seen this one coming. I put her on the potty and she drops a load worthy of the "Greasy Truckers Who Only Eat Chili Dogs Award." I clean the mess with a thousand baby wipes, and we exit the van. Fine...


Now I have three toddlers, a diaper bag, a purse and a bag full of shitty baby wipes to deal with. The stench coming from the plastic bag is undeniable. People are avoiding our general vicinity like we are plagued with leprosy. I find a trash can, and dispose of the poop bag. We shop a little, Ella runs away three hundred times, Reed poops in his diaper and Aiden complains that he is starving. We leave with about half of what we have come to buy. Fine...


We get back into the van, and are met by the delightful aroma of poop. I think the smell triggers Aiden's bowel sensory perception, because as soon as we are all buckled in, guess who needs to use the potty? So, I put Aiden on the pot, and wait while he puts Ella's earlier deposit to shame. Unfortunately, I had used the last of the wipes on Ella. So dry napkins have to suffice. I am also lacking any plastic bags, so I shove the soiled napkins into an empty Happy Meal box and drive by the nearest trash can to chuck it. However, Aiden still stinks of poop. Fine...


On our way home from picking up the kids, Trenton decides to give the potty a try. He sneaks out of his spot in the back row, and positions himself on the toilet. After leaving his own deposit, he gets up. How he manages to knock over the potty as he stands up, I'll never know. But he does, and urine spills all over the back of the van floor. Does he tell me? Yes...later that night. By the time I go back out to the van to sop up the spillage, the whole damn van smells like a nasty fair ground porta potty on a hot summer day. We could have avoided this whole situation had we stuck to our time honored tradition of peeing in the water bottle. The kids would have held their poop until we got home, as they have done for years. Trenton would have deposited his pee into a sealed bottle and discarded of it in the trash can at home. My van would only smell like hot dog barf, instead of the barf encrusted, urine drenched, poop processing factory that it smells like now. Fine, fine, fine...


I ask you: Is peeing in a water bottle really all that dirty when compared to the events of yesterday, and the resulting odor that will haunt our van for years to come?

Moving Onward and Upward!

I awoke Thursday morning to a familiar sensation in my abdomen. Happy birthday to me...my period started. I lay in bed, cursing mother nature for her horrible timing, and the impending cramps that I knew would plague my Thanksgiving/ B-day celebration. Then, after a few moments of wallowing in self pity, I realized something. My baby, Reed, is almost 17 months old now. Never, since having my first child, have I gone this long without being pregnant! I guess the trade off for remaining un-pregnant is worth the terrible cramps and other not so pleasant side effects of uterine shedding. I am finally getting to the point where I actually expect to have a period every month, rather than expect to have a positive pregnancy test. Yes...we are finally moving onward from the childbearing era!!


Another positive announcement that I want to share is the creation of my website. I have finally decided to start an actual site, in addition to my blogging. I'm still in the construction mode, so it is not fabulous...yet! My brother in law is helping to get it up and running, since I am technologically challenged (aka: a computer retard.) I have decided to name it after my book, "Seven Seeds." My hope is to get it designed and fully functional, in the event that my writing should get a shred of publicity some day. Even if that never happens, it will still be cool to type in www.kadiprescott.com and see my very own website pop up! I am currently searching for a person to design my template, but that is costly, so unless a money tree sprouts in the back yard or my rear end (hey, my IUD ended up there...) I'll have to figure something else out! None the less, the possibilities are endless and my future as a writer is moving upward!


The last movement that I felt the need to share with you all, is a huge one for me. I will not bore you with all of the little details, but I'm sure most of you know about my strained relationship with my dad. Very recently, Daniel and I decided to try and mend our relationship with him, in order to put my hurt and anger where they belong...in the past. Carrying around sixteen years of emotionally painful baggage has been a lot for this little lady to bear. My first form of therapy, in regards to my issues with Dad, was successful. It was in the form of my blog post titled "The Wolf". It is now time that I face him and tell him how badly he hurt me, and then allow him to share his feelings as well. I really believe that it will be beneficial for me as a daughter, a wife and a mother. I also need Daniel to forgive him for hurting me, so that we can let it go. It is hard to be a good wife and a good daughter when my husband hates the man that I badly need to reconcile with. But, Daniel is now ready to make amends and so am I. This weekend, my Dad will be arriving to do just that. If all goes well, Christmas with him will actually be a joyful season, once again. Please pray for my strength, wisdom and the ability to forgive. I truly feel like I am moving up and moving on...

Thankful For 29 Years Of Life's Lessons

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!! In light of the fact that my birthday falls on Thanksgiving this year, I am going to do a list of a few things I've learned (which I am thankful for,) as a result of the past 29 years of living. I'm sure that most of you will not be reading this until Monday, as you will be stuffing yourselves silly and then shopping/decorating for the remainder of the holiday weekend. So do not feel bad that you missed my birthday, just send all of my presents late...and I'll see it in my heart to forgive you for the oversight!!

Thankful

1. Grudges hold a steep price, but forgiveness costs nothing and sets us free.
2. Perfection is not something to strive for, contentment with our imperfections should be what we try to achieve.
3. In my case: Sex=Pregnancy (even with birth control)
4. Before we pass judgement on someone, we should walk several miles in their shoes ( one mile is not far enough to give us blisters from trying to shove our foot into something that is meant for someone else. We need to feel pain in order to learn the art of compassion.)
5. Old dogs can learn new tricks, if they are willing to stop chasing their tails long enough to realize that there are other options out there!
6. The uterus is surprisingly sturdy. I thought that mine would surely have fallen out by now! However...the mind is not (which is pretty evident to those who know me!)
7. Wrinkles don't just come from stress, they also come from laughter. We need to see them as signs of wisdom rather than one more unwanted mark to try and cover up. (I'm still working on this one!)
8. An empty cup is a lifesaver when you have children and sippy cups in the car for any longer than five minutes. Just remember not to drink the contents.
9. Children are a hell of a lot smarter than we give them credit for. If not treated with love and respect, they could turn on you and use their intelligence for evil!!
10. Finding the perfect partner is not a matter of finding the right person, rather being the right person. Be the best you can be, and all else will fall into place.
11. The road of life has many sharp curves and turns, so keep your wheel at the ready, and know that the route may change at any given moment!
12. Laughter really is the best medicine...but a glass of wine sometimes helps to open our eyes to the humor!
13. The love of shopping is something that most females are born with (much like most men's love of watching sports.) We will never understand the passion, but should respect it just the same!
14. Cleaning poop and barf will never be something that I become accustomed to, as the gag reflex is just not a part of me that has the ability to change. But I have learned to put perfume on the end of my nose when I am faced with such a clean up duty...it really does help!
15. When my time is up here, I will most likely not be remembered for a spotless house, great wealth, or keen fashion sense. Let's face it, those things are completely unrealistic in my domain!! I'd much rather be remembered for having an abundance of love and compassion for others...especially my family and friends (who I treasure more than anything in the world!)

Chivalry Is Not Dead...Just Blind

As I was reminiscing, this morning, about my past and the things that have made me who I am, certain events that I had long forgotten about, popped back into my mind. While some were painful and hard to look back on, there were others that made me laugh. One memory in particular gave me a good chuckle because it painted such an accurate and light hearted picture of who Daniel and I are, as a couple. It also allowed me to laugh at my past, which is so critical in the healing process.


It was a cold November night about nine years ago. I was driving home from church, and Daniel was following a few cars behind, in his own truck. I had just turned the corner on to our street, but Daniel had not made the light. The car in front of me stopped suddenly to make another left turn, which forced me to slam on my brakes. The car behind me was following too close and rear ended me. Luckily, we had just started picking up speed, so the bump was nothing serious. I was in such shock that I pulled over to the side (which was void of a shoulder,) and wedged my eight month beach ball stomach out of the car. The man who had hit me was so remorseful when he saw that I was pregnant. I assured him that I was fine and that my husband would be pulling up behind us shortly. Suddenly, Daniel drove by in his truck... and kept going. How could he have missed his very pregnant wife, standing next to her tell tale white Pontiac? We were practically in the middle of the road! It wasn't until I arrived home that it became evident that he had, in fact, seen us. I entered our apartment in tears, hurt that Daniel had not even stopped to help his damsel in distress. When he saw me crying, he immediately asked what was wrong. I explained what had happened, trying to form words despite the sobs that shook my body. I had felt so betrayed and alone as I watched Daniel pass us on the road. I looked up at Daniel through my blurry, tear filled eyes and saw him stifling his laughter.


"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I was furious that he would find my angst so funny.


"I'm so sorry honey! It isn't funny, at all, that you got hit. I'm only laughing at what a moron I am."


"What are you talking about?" I demanded.


"As I passed you on the road, I did see your cars and the two of you standing there. I had no idea that it was you and what is worse is that I cursed you both for being so stupid as to pull over on a street that had no shoulder. I feel like such an ass! Please forgive me!"


He hugged me and we had a good laugh together. I just couldn't be mad his lack of sufficient night vision, and the fact that he actually was peeved at my choice of parking spot, made it all the more hillarious. It was the first of many times that one of us has messed up at the other's expense and we had a good resulting laugh about it.


Life is full of less than perfect moments, and some are just down right asinine. That instance was so symbolic of who we are, on some level, because it shows my constant emotional "Damsel In Distress" syndrome, and Daniel's many missed "Knight In Shining Armor" opportunities, and the resulting 20/20 hindsight vision. But we have learned to laugh about our imperfections, which makes us a better couple and happier individuals. And above all, we know that even our mistakes and imperfections will always be met with understanding and love for each other. It is a big part of who we are.

Getting There Is Only Half The Battle

Family outings are usually few and far between for us. It is not for lack of desire, or venue. It is mainly because getting everyone ready to go anywhere takes so stinking long that by the time we are ready and in the car, half the day is already gone. Once we are on our way, there is usually the need to stop and fill up the gas tank, an easy 80 dollars down the drain! While traveling to said location, many arguments have to be resolved and many reminders made to keep our hands arms and legs to ourselves. These reminders are followed by threats to leave the pummeling participants on the side of the road. The ironic part is, all of the above make up only half of our family outing dilemmas.


When we finally arrive we arrive at our location, there is the difficulty of keeping everyone within range of our vision. Seven bodies, running in all different directions are hard enough to handle within the confines of our home. Imagine the struggle it presents in an uncontrolled or unknown setting. Then, there is a